


Rawed

by Hoodoo



Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Beetlejuice - All Media Types
Genre: Comeplay, Doggy Style, Dubious Consent, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gross, Power Play, Size Difference, Sloppy, Smoking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:55:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23854972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodoo/pseuds/Hoodoo
Summary: Don't tease the Ghost with the Most if you can't handle the fallout.
Relationships: Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice)/Reader, Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice)/You
Comments: 18
Kudos: 103





	Rawed

“Tasty little _snack.”_

You jumped. The voice came from behind you, from a corner you’d just passed that you were sure was empty.

Laughter bounced around you.

“Even wearin’ a skirt, like you’re lookin’ for someone to just come along and slip a hand--or something better--right under your clothes.”

You knew you shouldn’t acknowledge the words, shouldn’t acknowledge the _truth_ behind those words, but that didn’t suppress your shudder. 

That gravel-filled laughter came closer, filled your ear, like a scouring pad brushed lightly across your skin. It made you shudder again and reflexively, you smoothed down the fabric stretched across your thighs, as if you expected someone to do exactly what was suggested. 

You continued through the house. No further laughter or disembodied voice followed you, and you relaxed. Your heels tapped loudly as you walked down the hall unmolested. You turned, and suddenly he was there, waiting in the living room. Your hand went to your throat.

“Trying to avoid me, babes?”

“What? No, no, I was--”

In a flash, between less than a blink of an eye, he was right in front of you, staring down at you, smiling ferally. The smell of him: fresh turned dirt, damp clothing, the base note of mild mustiness filled your nose like his laughter had filled your ear. He had a way of seeping in any little crack he could find. 

“You were _what?_ Hmm? Getting dolled up, trying to sneak out, trying to leave and meet up with someone--”

He interrupted you, you interrupted him. “I wasn’t!”

His smile, already rictus, widened. “That’s right. You _weren’t.”_

He grabbed you then, quick as a thought. His nails weren’t broken but they were strong and they dug uncomfortably into your upper arms. You gasped.

“Gonna prove it, baby.”

It could have been a question but was more of an order. Again you gasped, and for a second you thought he was going to lean down and kiss you, but he didn’t. Instead, one of his hands snaked under your blouse, rucking it up over your bra. Your bra itself followed, pushed haphazardly and slightly painfully over your tits. 

His other hand, instead of slipping to your back and snapping the closure of your bra to give you some relief from the awkward position he’d put it in, worked at the tiny zipper of your skirt. It was too delicate to handle his hamfisted attempts to undo it, so with a frustrated snarl he simply hooked his fingers under the waistband of it and forced it down over your hips. A seam popped and tore. It was just as painful as what he’d done up top, but you didn’t complain. You knew better than to complain. 

When it made it passed the widest part of you, it fell easily, pooling at your feet. Caught on your heels, it left you half-bared in front of him, with your wrinkled shirt and thin panties. 

Under his heavy, lusty gaze, you automatically draped a hand over your chest, and the other twitched towards your pubic area.

That wasn’t the best idea.

He cocked an eyebrow at your audacity and licked his lower lip with his pale tongue.

“No,” was all his said, and your hands jumped away like you’d been stung. 

His hand took the one at your groin’s place. You weren’t sure if you were flushed or if it was just that he was room temperature, but he felt chilly as he cupped your pussy. He gave it a bit of a squeeze, and despite yourself, you groaned a little. It’d be nicer if he’d pushed his hand under the cotton of your panties too, so there was no barrier between you and him, but he seemed content that you were frustrated. 

Your panties were thin enough that he was able to slip his longest finger between your folds.

You groaned again, and he jerked his hand away. He scrutinzied you, nodded to himself, and took a step back to work his belt buckle open. When he caught you staring, he stopped. Reaching for you, he caught your chin and applied pressure on it till your jaw opened a little. He slipped his thumb inside.

You had no clue where his hand had been and the taste was nothing more than mold, but you closed your lips on the digit anyway. 

“You know what I want.”

With his thumb crooked on your tongue, you lifted your eyes to his and nodded. 

“Then squat. This cock isn’t gonna suck itself.”

Immediately you kicked away your discarded skirt and dropped as he said. reaching for his half-undone belt and fly. He didn’t help at all, which you expected. The zipper was stiff with what you hoped was dirt, and when you finally were able to open his trousers his pale cock sprang free. No underwear for him, even if the corpse he’d pilfered his favorite suit from had been wearing any. 

You pushed his trousers to the tops of his knees, and after steadying yourself--the heels made that a little easier, as well as kept you more level with his groin--you leaned in to catch the head of his cock in your mouth. 

His fingers twisted into your hair and pulled your head back to look up at him before you managed to so much as lick him.

“I want your legs spread. No touching yourself. And this better be the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten, baby,” he told you, brooking no argument. “Wet and sloppy. I want to hear you moan with my cock in your mouth. I want you to gag.”

His tight grip precluded you from actually managing to nod your understanding. Instead, the moment he loosened his fingers, you opened your mouth and moved forward, finally taking him between your lips as you continued to keep your eyes locked on his. 

You kept your eyes open, even though it took you a moment to get used to the chill of his skin and the slightly sour taste of his flesh. His cock was thick enough that you had to flatten your tongue and relax your jaw to pull him further in. Inconsiderately he popped his hips forward, which you expected and had time to prepare for by holding your breath. 

The unlubricated skin of his cock dragged a little more than you’d have preferred, and when he pulled back out, you took a second to release him entirely.

Being out of the warm heat of your mouth unexpectedly made his head, which had lolled back at the initial first thrust, snap back down to you. His lips twisted in a scowl, but when you heavily licked up the underside of his shaft, giving him a thick coating of spit then immediately took him in again without further hestitation--and without further resistance--he gave a low moan of approval. 

With that, you did as he asked. Wet and sloppy, because you didn’t give yourself time to swallow any spit. Gagging, because his cock not only filled your mouth with girth but because when you pushed yourself to your limits and your nose was buried in the rat’s nest of pubic hair at the base of his cock, it was just to the point of making you retch. He, of course, always wanted a little bit more, and never tried to stop fucking your face. 

That slight hip movement plus his hand tangled into your hair gave him more of the gag he wanted, and you had to pull off him to gasp for breath as he chuckled.

Still, you went back to it before you’d caught your breath completely. That earned you a startled cry of delight. You blew him hard and fast, alternating suction and depth. Spit coated your chin, and dripped down your neck. You decided he’d probably rather have your tits completely exposed and managed to unsnap your bra and shimmy out of it and your shirt. Drool made its way to your chest. 

When you were able, when you were on an outward pull and not flush with his groin, you looked up at him. Many times he was looking down at you, his eyes half closed, looking deeper set in their dark hollows; when he wasn’t his head was tipped back and you got to see his throat work as he swallowed around the moans and softly muttered words that didn’t quite make it to your ears. 

Before long, your eyes watered; your jaw ached; your lungs burned; your legs trembled. The noises he made hitched higher, with a more urgent note to them. At one point, when you had pulled out enough to only have the head of his cock between your lips, he yanked back on your hair.

“Look at me,” he growled, and you lifted your eyes once again. He gazed down at you, eyes half-lidded. “Your mascara is ruined. You’ve soaked us both in drool. My cock looks so good in your mouth, baby--you like this, baby?”

He wasn’t as detached as he wanted to sound--his pale eyes had blown dark with arousal and he had no need to breathe but his mouth was open, his lips coated with a thin veneer of his own spit. Still, he cocked an eyebrow, waiting for an answer. 

You nodded to the best of your ability and moaned, slipping your tongue around the head of his cock as you did. The extra stimulation from your tongue and the vibration made him groan a bit. 

“Good, that’s good, baby,” he praised, and rocked himself on the balls of his feet, just to slip a little in and out between your lips. 

His eyes darted down you, to your tits and stomach. Then they dropped to your legs, with your thighs still spread as he’d told you, not allowing for any friction or pressure on your pussy while you blew him.

“I bet that pussy is wishing it had some attention, isn’t it, sweets.”

It was intoned more like an observation, not a question, but you nodded anyway. You ached down there, and wondered if he was just setting you up for disappointment by talking about it but planning on blowing his load in your mouth or on your tits. He’d pulled that nasty little trick before. 

“Better do something about it, then. Up.”

Gratefully you got to your feet. You wobbled a little on your heels, and made a motion to kick them off, but he told you to keep them on, and physically picked you up to spin you around. 

“Bend over, baby.”

The only clothing left on you was your underwear and shoes. As you obeyed, bending at the waist, you felt your panties tighten over your pussy, showcasing it. Although they were shoulder width apart, you kept your legs straight and put your hands on your knees to help keep your balance.

An appreciatative noise came from behind you, and before you could look back over your shoulder, his hands were at your ankles. His fingernails scratched up your legs, maybe not enough to break skin, but enough to leave stinging red trails after them. You steadied yourself as you felt him move closer and plant a kiss on the back of your thigh, and then his mouth was within a breath of your cotton-clad pussy. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” he announced, as if you didn’t know you’d soaked your panties. 

What you weren’t expecting was for him to drag his tongue over the thin fabric on your pussy. You startled and almost fell forward, even as you moaned. 

Your precarious stance finally must have registered with him. He didn’t acknowledge it verbally, however; he simply picked you up again by the waist and carried you to the couch. Setting you down in roughly the same position you’d been in, now at least you had the support of the furniture to lean on for what you knew was coming next. 

His fingers hooked under the elastic of your panties and pulled them over your ass and down your legs. He left them where they stayed, just above your knees, and instead of his mouth again, his fingers dipped to your pussy, slipping through your folds, orienting himself to where he needed to be even as you arched your back to try and get a little more stimulation out of him. 

He brushed over your clit twice more, making you moan. The blunt--and chillier--head of his cock replaced his fingers, collecting your wet along your pussy, before nudging into you. Once he started, like your mouth, he gave you little time to adjust.

You gave an opened-mouthed cry as his cock stretched you open. 

It’d lost any heat it’d leeched from your mouth and felt cold filling you. You didn’t care. You reveled in it. His cock would warm again soon enough.

After getting his bearings--he always paused after first shoving his cock into you from the spike of pleasure, not that he’d admit that--his hands kept a tight grip on your sides, and he fucked you roughly. He slipped out once, making both of you groan, and you helped resituate him, then kept your hand on your pussy, feeling his cock plunge into you. It was wet now, and the additional pressure on your clit was worth losing the support from that arm.

His grunts were interspersed with random words and half-phrases: “Good girl”, and “take it”, but his favorite was just, “fuck fuck fuck fuck,” repeated just under his breath. 

Each thrust made air burst from your lungs. You mewled and pressed your chest to the arm of the couch for more balance. Trying to angle yourself so he’d hit that magic spot inside you didn’t work out well, however; being both hobbled by the panties still around your knees and going up on your toes in your shoes made your feet slip. He’d also reached forward and grabbed a handful of hair, pulling your head back, which didn’t help your balance at all. 

You losing your footing made him growl through his explosive panting. He gave you a smart slap on your ass which stung more than it should have because of his ring, then, just as abruptly as he’d pushed into you, he pulled out.

“Get up. I want to see your tits anyway,” he said as a half explanation. “Lay down.”

A little dazed from the sudden feeling of emptiness in your pussy and the new order, you were slow to push yourself upright. 

Before you could turn and do as he said, you were bodily picked up again and put exactly in the position he wanted you: flat on your back on the couch cushions, angled so one leg draped off the side, knee bent at a ninety degree. Your high heels supported that limb. He shimmied your panties off the rest of the way. As he flicked you in the other calf so you’d open your leg widely, he bunched your panties in his other hand and shoved them into his trouser’s pocket--

“You’re still dressed?!” you exclaimed. It was more shrill than you’d mean it to be, but that was lazy, even for him.

In the middle of wiping his thumb over his lower lip as he stared down at you splayed before him like a buffet, he glanced back up at your face. 

“You just can’t get enough this sexy body, can you baby?” he replied saucily, and even as you rolled your eyes his suit was thought into a heap on the floor. He stood before you in all his grub-pale, moldy glory.

You rolled your eyes again but reached for him. He gladly fell on top of you but didn’t return the embrace; once again he found exactly where he wanted to be and rutted into you. With a solid base, his pace was even faster and snappier now, ramming into your cunt hard enough to make you squeak with each inward thrust. 

Even as he held himself up with rigid arms, you grabbed at him and pulled him down. His tepid torso against yours made goosebumps break out on you, but you were soon used to the temperature difference. The smell of damp earth easily became unnoticable, even when he buried his face into your neck and his hair was against your cheek. 

You clutched at him. Keeping him held tightly to you shifted his position just enough that his pubic bone pressed against your clit, sending sparks of increasing pleasure from your groin up into your stomach. Rougher treatment aside, that plus the delicious friction from his cock in your pussy had you tumbling towards orgasm at a pace that surprised even you. 

It wasn’t going to take much more. The points of his hips slammed into you mercilessly, he’d started up his “fuck fuck fuck” chant against your ear; you grabbed at his ass just in case he had the sadistic notion of stopping--you were almost there, _almost there--_

His teeth latched onto you, into the soft juncture between your neck and shoulder, giving you a sharp painful contrast to the bliss throughout the rest of your body. With your flesh between his teeth, he roared through his release, his hips juttering once, twice, then keeping his cock buried deep inside you as he came. Maybe it was just your imagination, but it was almost as if you could feel his cool come fill your cunt. 

Despite the fact he’d done little to voluntarily help you along, the sensation of being filled, plus the heavy, now unrelenting pressure on your clit, and yes, even the ache from the bite pushed you over the edge. Ecstasy dragged you under. You cried out as you came until your voice was gone. 

Once you drifted back to reality, you had to untangle yourself from around him. You hadn’t even been aware you’d wrapped your legs around him, or that you’d grabbed him by the ass so hard your fingers felt stiff as you unclenched them. 

He pulled away with a smirk, before leaning back in--not to kiss you, although your lips parted in anticipation, but to lick the spot he’d bitten you. Like the rest of him, his tongue was cool and maybe he hadn’t meant it that way, but it soothed your shoulder a little. 

Then he pulled back and away and out of you. Unstoppered, a gush of wet fell from your pussy. That caught his eye, and he paused to pull his fingers through your pussy again and the come dripping out of you. Slickened, he even rubbed your borderline overly sensitive clit for a second, making you jerk and cry out again, but you weren’t sure if he was deliberately trying to pleasure you or not. 

As your panting slowed, your brow furrowed, trying to understand what he was doing with the come he’d collected on his fingers. You never could guess what might be going through his mind--

Instead of shoving his wet fingers into your mouth or licking them himself, he simply wiped them dry on your leg, from your inner thigh to your knee. 

“What’re you doing-- _gross!_ Beetlejuice!” you exclaimed, sitting up to get out of his reach. 

“Easy on the ‘B’ word there,” he replied but without much malice, dropping beside you on the couch.

You got up, found the piles of discarded clothing, and seriously thought about using his suit to wipe yourself clean. But you knew he wouldn’t care and wouldn’t clean it off, and you actually didn’t know what might already be on it, so you opted for your own blouse. 

Once the majority of the wet was gone, leaving only a thin, drying residue behind, you turned to find him staring at you with open appreciation on his face. You hadn’t meant to give him a show as you bent to wipe yourself up, but apparently you did. Finally you kicked off your heels and joined him on the couch, plopping down without invitation on your back so your head was on his leg, looking up at him. 

With a glance down at you, he put one hand over the mark he’d given you. Like his tongue, the cool touch was soothing. 

He was smoking, of course, as he tended to do after sex, as if he could still have a nictotine addiction. You watched his lips close around the end of the cigarette. After he took a drag, you made an inarticulate noise to indicate you wanted some too, and he held it to your mouth for you, instead of passing it. 

You pulled on it, holding the bitter smoke in your lungs for a moment. 

Letting it out, you gazed up at him. He was sated and lazy after a romp like that, and you couldn’t help but smile a little. 

“You know, there doesn’t have to be all the pretense,” you said. 

He cocked an eyebrow and he looked down at you without dropping his chin. 

“The whole, ‘you’re dressed up for someone else, I’ll show you you’re mine’ schtick,” you elaborated. “I’m happy to wear whatever you want, just for you.”

He snorted, blowing smoke out his nose as he replied, “Don’t I fuckin’ know it, baby. I do all that possessive stuff to get you goin’. You love it. If I was sticky sweet, you wouldn’t know how to take it. Prob’ly think I was an imposter and kick me out.”

Hearing the faint teasing amusement in his tone, you returned his snort but it was more like laughter. You also turned your head to bite his stomach, which made him fold in the middle. 

That made you laugh harder, and you spent the rest of the evening passing the cigarette back and forth and idly lounging. 

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of a trade with the incomparable artist and all around awesome person [clairjohnson](https://clairjohnson.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. She made some very naughty Keatlejuice art in return, which I'm happy to share if you ask nicely.


End file.
